Monday, May 20, 2013

Journalist
Patrick Bahners has settled his part of a libel lawsuit
with Canadian art restorer Peter Paul Biro who alleged Bahners published untrue
statements about his methods of art authentication.

Bahners became entangled in a massive
libel case stemming from a July 12, 2010 16,000-word profile in New
Yorker magazine, written by David Grann, in which Peter Paul
Biro and his family of art conservators from Montreal, Canada, are depicted
as criminals, according to the lawsuit. He is the second defendant to settle out
of court with Biro.

Biro launched his lawsuit in
June, 2011 in US District Court, Southern District of New York, against Grann
and New Yorker magazine's parent company, Conde Nast, who filed motions
to have the case dismissed. But in August, 2012 Judge J. Paul Oetken ordered
that statements in the article potentially had defamatory implication and he
refused to dismiss claims based on those statements. Biro is seeking $20-Million from the defendants.

Bahners
penned his follow-up article a full year after the judge's decision,
and shortly after publication in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung,
Bahners was added to the lawsuit.

The details of the settlement
were not made public. But one analyst said it marks a turning point in a case
which may have grave implications for the chief defendants David Grann and Conde
Nast.

Veteran investigative
journalist Harry Moses, who for years produced CBS' 60-Minutes, said
Grann made a mistake by relying on a bad source for his article in the New
Yorker. "I think [David Grann] relied too much on Theresa Franks. She's been
largely discredited," Moses said.

In a 2011 interview, Franks, an art dealer from
Arizona, claimed she was the "catalyst" for the article, a claim Grann neither
confirmed nor denied, but has been cited by legal experts as the defendants'
"Achilles' heel" in the lawsuit.

Franks published scathing
articles on her websites and blog for years, damaging Biro's reputation as an
innovator and pioneer in the field of painting analysis, particularly of forensic
evidence, that may tie a painting to the artist's hand, or to that of a
forger.

Franks hired a fingerprint
examiner, Patrick Wertheim, to "double-check" Biro's methods. Wertheim
produced a report for Franks which, together with Franks' articles, insinuated
that Biro fabricated fingerprints by means of a rubber stamp and then planted
them on the artwork, something David Grann further insinuated in his New
Yorker article.

Grann's article set off a bit
of a media feeding-frenzy, and it wasn't long before other articles appeared,
stating Biro was "a forger" and that his family had done "jail time". None of the
articles produced any proof for such claims.

Shortly after Biro filed
his lawsuit, many articles which portrayed Biro badly were retracted.
Manhattan Media published a public apology and the Daily Beast
issued a correction. Based on the New Yorker article, Business
Insider had included Biro on a list of "Nine of the Biggest Art Forgeries of
All Time." After the suit was filed, they suddenly removed Biro from the list
and renamed it, "Eight of the Biggest Art Forgeries of All Time." One media
outlet clearly and publicly admitted they misinterpreted the Grann article and
apologized, and other articles simply vanished.

Since Franks became a defendant
in the case, her venomous articles on Biro have completely disappeared from the
internet, in effect, retracting all of the claims that Grann so heavily relied
upon for his article. Her numerous art-related websites are all gone too, and
the only thing that remains on her former blog is an advisory notice
claiming all information on the site has been "rescinded, deleted and
destroyed."

And Franks' fingerprint expert,
Patrick Wertheim, who Grann also relied upon for his article, is currently under investigation by the
International Association for Identification (IAI) for evidence tampering,
evidence fabrication and obstruction of justice in a murder case. The results of which are still pending.

Another
primary source for Grann's article, Marion Hendler, claimed her late
husband invested with Biro’s father in a painting, and insinuated it was
switched with a cheap copy. However, according to court records, Biro
and his father’s estate sued her for libel but she never appeared in
court to face Biro, and defaulted, thus legally admitting to the falsity
of her claims.Judge Oetken's ruling came
just weeks after a hugely embarrassing scandal involving
New Yorker magazine journalist Jonah Lehrer, who resigned after admitting
plagiarism and also fabricated Bob Dylan quotes in his best-selling book,
Imagine.Biro
would not comment on the case. Likewise, his attorney, Richard A.
Altman, would not comment except to confirm that a settlement had been
reached and that his client had withdrawn his claim in February, 2013. Neither Bahners nor
his attorney could be reached for a statement.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

He fooled critics, art experts and auction houses. But through all the chicanery, he never fooled himself. John Myatt, once referred to as "the biggest art fraud of the 20th century," has now emerged as a respected working artist with a clear and direct message to the very experts he fooled. In this Fine Art Investigations exclusive, Myatt candidly talks art authentication and the importance of scientific analysis. And in a surprising twist, Myatt pops the lid off of yet another art world mystery. The full article will be published here soon.

Atop the escalator of the Grove Street PATH station in Jersey City, someone handed me a flyer. "Big art show," a young man said. "We're showing a film about the truth of 9/11, then having a round-robin discussion." I stared down at the flyer—a crude drawing of an American flag with a question-mark in the middle. "But what about the art," I asked. "9/11 art doesn't sell," he said. "But we have lots of DVDs, and books. People love them, and it helps pay the rent."

The brief encounter led me back to the sneaking suspicion I've had since the months after the attacks—that artists have largely avoided the subject of 9/11 in their work.

But given such a moment in history, why have artists failed this calling?

As I walked toward the river, standing less than a mile from where so many died, I pondered the question. The possibilities ebbed and flowed in my mind—maybe the subject is too painful, or on the contrary, not "inspiring" enough. Or perhaps, in a clear capitalistic and entrepreneurial sense, as suggested by the man with the flyer, art on the subject of 9/11 just isn't as attractive or commercially viable as a conspiracy-laden 9/11 "truth" film.

Or is it is something else?

The website of The National September 11 Memorial & Museum in New York City features an artist registry section where artists, authors, poets and musicians can upload their content along with a resume`. The cost is free.

Of the nine-hundred artists listed, many are from overseas, including Egypt, Israel, The Netherlands and the Philippines. Some are seasoned professionals, but the great majority are amateurs collectively brought together for the purpose of confronting 9/11 through the eyes of an artist.

Chaos, Oil on Canvas, copyright Denise Bankuti

There are simple drawings, as well as elaborate murals and mixed-media compositions.

One day, while perusing the site, a particular image gripped me out of my skin—a painting entitled "Chaos", by Denise Bankuti.

I clicked the "contact artist" link and composed a brief email to let Bankuti know how much her painting moved me. As a fellow artist, I know a simple gesture of appreciation goes a long way. I did not expect a response.

A few days later, I did receive one. And it wasn't long before I found Bankuti to be one of the few professional artists who courageously confronted the horror of 9/11, refreshingly, without an overt political agenda.

A year later, I asked Ms. Bankuti for an interview with Fine Art Investigations.

Her grandparents on her father's side were immigrants from Hungary, and after working as farm hands and getting sponsored in Ohio, they moved to Chicago, where her mother lived. Around 1941, her parents moved to Burbank.

Before her father died, he built a studio for her on the second story of their home—a gift for which she is thoroughly grateful.

"Every morning I go into the studio and start working. It's a wonderful place to create. I feel like my family is still around me," she said.

Bankuti also has fond memories and appreciation for her grade school art teacher, Helen Manezon, who was one of the illustrators at the Nuremberg trials after World War II. Manezon would take the promising young Bankuti under her wing, but not without a bit of tough love from the old school.

"She gave me a lesson that I will never forget," Bankuti said. She described how Manezon came to check on the progress of a painting she'd been painstakingly working on for a week. She told Bankuti it was fantastic and that she'd like to put it on the wall for everyone to see. The young artist's head swelled with pride.

But then Manezon took the paper towel that Bankuti had been wiping her paint brush off with and put it in front of the whole class. Bankuti paraphrased the teacher. "'You have more freedom and better color in that paper towel than you have in that piece of work you've been working on for a whole week.'"

"At the time i was devastated," Bankuti said. But the lesson had served its purpose. After completing high-school, she won a scholarship to the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena. She later attended Otis Art Institute until 1973.

Another teacher that played a major role in Bankuti's development was Edmund Hill. "He taught me everything I know about structure," she said. The two would become life-long friends.

Bankuti said Hill introduced her to the work of the master artist Charles White, who's social realist drawings show poignant, and volatile depictions of the civil rights movement.

Inspired by his work, and his humanity, Bankuti painted a picture of White. "I did a 5'x10' painting in one color (sepia) in one tube of paint on canvas and entered it in a national contest, and it won out of 18,000 entries," Bankuti said.

The Last Thing I Remember, copyright Denise Bankuti

With the encouragement from mentors and family alike, Bankuti strove to live her dream as an artist. It wasn't always easy, but the savvy Burbank native wasn't going to give up, even if it meant taking a job for a while to make ends meet.

A neighbor offered her a position as a receptionist for Hollywood talent agent Herb Tannen. Bankuti accepted the job, but with the caveat that she wouldn't work after her 30th birthday. Tannen agreed.

There, the 25-year old Bankuti learned to work the ropes in her favor, establishing acquaintances with Hollywood's A-list, and turning some of them into proud owners of original Bankuti's.

"I sold paintings to Burt Lancaster," she said. "I did an 8' x 4' painting of Tina Turner for her home. She commissioned me to do the painting of her."

And the list goes on: Sidney Poitier, Kirk Douglas.

Armed with her golden address book, Bankuti had no trouble booking exhibitions. And on her 30th birthday, she quit her job as promised.

"Instead of show-business using me, I used it," Bankuti said. "I've been a working artist ever since."

Bankuti's success is inspiring. But the manner in which she artistically responded to 9/11 is fully remarkable.

"The first recording of historical events was through drawing, and painting," she said. "Artists
paint their truth. And through that truth, history reveals itself. It
doesn't always mean that what the artists portray is everyone's truth. But their opinion has to be put down. Because that shows where our
society and our culture were coming from at that moment."

Fallen Heroes, copyright Denise Bankuti

Last September, Bankuti's work was exhibited at Penn State Berks Freyberger Gallery and at The Gallery at Lehigh Valley University to commemorate the tenth anniversary of 9/11.

She
poignantly described how the
son of a firefighter, who suffers 9/11-related mental health issues, came to her during the exhibition and said
that her work gives great honor to his father."The
graciousness of the New Yorkers who came up to me..." She paused for a
moment. "I was just trying to record history of our country."

As she spoke, I thought back to the flyer-man at the PATH station, who said 9/11 works "don't sell." I then tried to quantify, in dollars, Bankuti's experience in Pennsylvania with the New Yorkers, with the firefighter's son.

What price can you put on that?

For Bankuti, the answer is obvious. Despite huge accolades for her 9/11-related works, they are not for sale. Not even to the Hollywood glitterati.

"I am more interested in placing my artworks in a place of honor rather than getting paid for it," Bankuti said.

"When I die, I'll sure as hell know that there are schoolchildren who are going to come to that small museum in Burbank. And they're going to leave asking questions, maybe, wanting to know more."

In an historic and devastating blow to New Yorker magazine—which for years has touted "ironclad" fact-checking methods, a federal judge has denied the publication's motion to fully dismiss an art expert's $20-Million defamation lawsuit.

US District Court Judge J. Paul Oetken's 95-page ruling means the case will go to trial unless New Yorker magazine and nine other defendants settle with plaintiff Peter Paul Biro.

The lawsuit stems from a July 12, 2010 feature article written by a New Yorker journalist, David Grann, in which Biro and his family--art conservators from Montreal, Canada, are depicted as criminals, according to the lawsuit.

Grann's article set off a media frenzy, spawning follow-up articles which painted Biro as a "forger" and that his family had done "jail time," all of which were later found to be untrue.

Shortly
after the lawsuit was filed, many articles which
portrayed Biro negatively were retracted. Manhattan Media published a public
apology and the Daily Beast issued a correction. Based on the New
Yorker article, Business Insider had included Biro on a list of "Nine of
the Biggest Art Forgeries of All Time." After the suit was filed, they quickly removed Biro from the list and renamed it, "Eight of the
Biggest Art Forgeries of All Time." One media outlet clearly and
publicly admitted they misinterpreted the Grann feature and apologized,
while some of the spin-off articles just disappeared off the internet.

In his ruling, Judge Oetken stated that Grann's article is "reasonably capable of a defamatory meaning." He also called into question whether Grann's article "constitutes a fair and true report" on Biro.

Oetken also approved consideration of special damages for Biro on "claims for injurious falsehood". Other claims by Biro were dismissed by the court. But the case will move forward, and as one legal expert said, "settlements will come pouring in."

Biro issued a brief statement following the judge's decision. "I am pleased that the court has ruled that some of the statements in the article can be considered defamatory. I look forward to proceeding to discovery and to determining the case on its merits."

The New Yorker also issued a statement. "We are gratified that Judge Oetken has already dismissed the vast bulk of Mr. Biro's claims, and we are confident that we will prevail."

But perhaps the statement is too little too late for the New Yorker. One defendant has already chosen to
settle. According to U.S. federal court records, publisher Dan Rattiner
reached a settlement arrangement with Biro, the details and amount of
which are undisclosed. Biro sought $1 million from Rattiner.

In a separate ruling, Judge Oetken denied defendant Theresa Franksa motion to dismiss based on jurisdiction. Franks, a resident of Arizona, claims to have beena "catalyst" to the Grann article.

Biro also won a ruling which allows him to file a supplemental complaint to include additional defendants if necessary.

Biro's work was the subject of the 2006 film
documentary, Who the #$&% Is Jackson Pollock?,
which follows the journey of Ms. Teri Horton, a retired trucker who
bought a purported Pollock painting for $5.00 in a thrift shop, and
her attempt to have it authenticated.

A fingerprint on the back of the
canvas was first checked out by a San Bernardino, California police
chief. Then, years later, Horton hired Biro to analyze the fingerprint. The
print matched one on a can of paint in the Pollock studio and on an
undisputed, cataloged Pollock painting hanging in the Tate Modern.

Monday, July 30, 2012

"The
first half of the 20th century belongs to Picasso, the second half to
Rauschenberg. While Picasso blew the doors off the art house, Bob
knocked it down."

Ron Bishop - Director, Bob Rauschenberg Gallery

On
a recent Thursday night, I walked into Bert’s Bar in Matlacha,
Florida—a popular local watering hole that promises good grub and cold
beer. I passed the pool table with the faded green felt and propped
myself up on a stool. On the opposite wall, a yellow sign with black
letters read: “NO POLITICS / NO RELIGION”.

Respecting
the house rules, I turned to the couple next to me and asked if they
knew where I could find some art. Good art. The heavyset man, sporting a
Harley Davidson shirt turned toward me, raised his left arm as if
carrying a barbell, and flexed. “See this? Art.” I immediately
recognized the image on his tattooed flesh as a warped version of a
Pablo Picasso painting.

“Weeping
Woman, 1937,” I said, referring to the artist’s famed painting. “You
know your stuff,” the man said. “You’re good,” his female companion
replied, who was inked up on both arms and neck, framed by a faded
Talking Heads t-shirt.

“Well, not really,” I said. "But I do know that image.”

After
a couple of drinks and some small talk, we discussed Picasso, Pollock,
and Rauschenberg. "The art critic Clement Greenberg once said Jackson
Pollock was better than Picasso," I said.

“That’s ridiculous,” an agitated Ben said.

“And
I just spoke with a guy from the Rauschenberg Gallery in Fort Myers who
said that while the first half of the 20th century belongs to Picasso,
the second half belongs to Rauschenberg," I said.

“That’s
blasphemous!” Ben said. “Picasso owns all of the 20th century and this
part of the 21st!" Katie shook her head in disgust. “Picasso is God,"
she yelled, slamming her bottle on the bar. "God!" The room quieted. The
bartender shot over. "Hey, everything alright here, guys?"

I
looked up at the yellow sign with black lettering and read part of its
message again: NO RELIGION. “I’ll take the check," I said.

New Century Recent Acquisitions from the Martin Z. Marguilies Collection

The next day, I made a call to the man who had uttered the quote which almost got me tossed out of a bar.

“I have a great job,” Ron Bishop said, director of the Rauschenberg Gallery
at Edison State College in Fort Myers, Florida. “Because I get to look
at art all day long.” The words came from a man who has dedicated much
of his professional life to the legacy of the late Robert Rauschenberg,
an artist who has cast a huge shadow over the cultural landscape of
contemporary American art, whose philanthropy has benefited many, and
inspired millions.

Much
of Bishop’s job as director is developing and organizing exhibits for
the gallery—a task that entails long hours and meticulous planning. “I
cover a lot of territory,” Bishop said. “But I don’t complain about that
work."

And
why should he? The gallery bustles with energy—a collegiate presence
augmented by contemporary, albeit profound artworks. The gallery is in a
pristine building highlighted by a space large enough to display an
ambitious art installation. In my visit there last March, an exhibition
of Ray Burggraf's art was hanging. The gallery afforded ample breathing
room for Burggraf's large format paintings.

Rauschenberg's Scenarios Exhibition, 2007

Rauschenberg
moved to nearby Captiva Island in 1970. The Gallery of Fine Art was
founded in 1979 and would become Rauschenberg's home gallery. By the
time Bishop was hired in 1999, Rauschenberg had made a huge cultural and
financial impact in Fort Myers. Bishop continued the friendship with
Rauschenberg, an alliance that would prove paramount to the existence of
the gallery itself.

"Bob
had done so much for us," Bishop said. "When we had a show with him, he
gave us limited edition prints, an edition of 100 or 160, entirely for
us to to sell and benefit the gallery. We put it through the state of
Florida's cultural endowment and we were able to stabilize the gallery,"
Bishop said.

"The
Division of Cultural Affairs has a program that matches two-thirds to
one the money that you put into a holding account and we live off of
that interest," Bishop said. "The principal is essentially what Bob gave
us through the sale of those prints. That’s my exhibition money."

Recognizing
the huge impact Rauschenberg was having on the gallery's success,
Bishop set the wheels in motion that would eventually result in renaming
the gallery in the artist's honor. I asked Bishop how that developed.
"I identified quickly that this was our future and that Bob had given it
to us," Bishop said. "I went to the foundation department and said, we
name buildings all over campus for donations that people give us." He
brought the idea of renaming the gallery in Rauschenberg's honor to the
president and board of directors, which they readily endorsed. "Then we
went and asked Bob if he'd agree, and he did," Bishop said. In 2004, the
gallery was officially renamed.

"One
of the things I do each summer is try to find an event that supports an
organization in the community," Bishop said. In this spirit, Bishop
works tirelessly to help produce and present "Arts for ACT Fine Art
Auction" to benefit the Abuse Counseling and Treatment, Inc. (ACT)
organization.

Artists
from around the area donate a piece to ACT to be sold at their annual
summer auction. The artist's work is showcased in the gallery for about a
month where visitors can preview the works before auction.

Raushcenberg's generosity has rubbed off on a new generation of successful artists.

Michelle Weinberg, an artist from Miami and New York says she's pleased to donate her work, a silkscreen called Artist Studio in Landscape.

"I
frequently donate works to fundraisers," Weinberg said. "I try to
participate when the cause is worthy. In fact, I created the silkscreen
editioned work, so that I could say yes to all the requests for
donations I receive."

Bishop
also organizes a charity event for the state-run program, Very Special
Arts, which benefits young and adult artists with various sorts of
challenges. I asked Bishop how much money is raised from the
Rauschenberg-inspired donations. "Hundreds of thousands annually,"
Bishop said. "Donations range from anywhere from three-hundred to
half-a-million."

Rauschenberg's
generosity has become the stuff of legend among collectors and
admirers. In a New York Times Op-Ed piece written shortly after
Rauschenberg's death, musician David Byrne waxed poetic on the subject
of the artist's giving nature both in money and time. "Bob was
extraordinarily generous. I don’t mean he gave away art — though he did
that, too — but he was generous with his time and with his ideas and
spirit. He started Change Inc., a foundation that awards grants to
emerging artists who can’t pay their rent, utility or medical bills. No
questions asked. Bob’s generosity of vision was, it seemed to me, more
profound than the financial kind," Byrne wrote.

Ron Bishop with Bob Rauschenberg

Bishop
echoed Byrne's sentiment. "Aside from your first observation of
generosity, I think seeing Bob's work throughout his life all the way to
the end of his life it was always cutting edge. He was always
exploring, always trying new materials, always looking for a new way to
present imagery," Bishop said.

"I
think he gave people an in-road that freed them and gave them
permission to think about art differently and just opened the door for
them," Bishop said. "He changed everything. He used everything. Anything
of today. Anything in the world was Bob's image. And if we look at his
career and the imagery he used throughout this career it was always of
the world. It was always now. He collaborated with everyone. He loved
that energy of free thinking, coming to new conclusions, not having a
set path. He said to me once, 'Art is organic.'"

I
asked Bishop about Rauschenberg's influence on local artists. "There
are people in the community that more freely incorporate collage
imagery—imagery out of magazines, world imagery as opposed to painting
everything by hand. You don't find Rauschenberg-influenced work
everywhere. But you do here, and I think that is a direct relationship
to the amount of opportunities people had in seeing Bob's work. We got
to see his work more than anyone. We got to see more of his than anyone
and that's pretty amazing. We're privileged to have been in the same
community as him.

Bishop's
love and admiration for Rauschenberg is obvious, and like many people
who dedicate their lives to another, he has made big sacrifices. By our
last interview, I sensed Bishop was a man of many layers. I wasn't sure
how to explain it, but it seemed there was more to Ron Bishop than
meets the eye. And I was right.

Geomantic Wisdom by Ron Bishop, 8" x 10", acrylic on canvas

"I'm
a painter," Bishop said. "I have a masters degree in painting from
Cranbrook Academy of Art, in Michigan." And perhaps even more
impressive, he has fifty exhibitions to his credit.

When I asked if he'd send a few images of his work, he was squeamish. But why?

"Because of the respect and reputation this gallery has," Bishop said. "I haven't shown my work in twelve years."

Damn shame, I thought. Because, good art should be seen.

Transcript of Magic and Life by Ron Bishop, 12" x 34", acrylic on canvas

Guardian of Time by Ron Bishop, 18" x 56", acrylic on canvas

"So, you've been more dedicated to the gallery than your own work?" I asked.

"Absolutely,"
he said. "I have so much fun and enjoy what I do here, even though in
fact it has been a sacrifice it doesn't feel like it. I got to have six
shows with Robert Rauschenberg. It's kind of hard to miss my career as
an artist when I get to work with people with such marvelous acclaim,
wonderful people."

"My work is fairly intimate in scale. I want to bring you close into it."

I
hovered over the image and studied the colors. "My work comes from a
metaphysical place," Bishop said. "I am a colorist." And then another
revelation: "This is probably the last year of my work at the gallery."

"Why?" I asked.

"I'm at a point in my life where I'd like to catch trout and paint pictures," he said.

About
a week later, I went back to Bert's Bar. I passed the pool table with
the faded green felt and propped myself up on a stool. On the opposite
wall, the yellow sign with black letters stared back. But it was
different this time. Someone had used a magic marker to amend the house
rules: “NO POLITICS / NO RELIGION...and NO ART".

Big Ben leaned up against the bar. "So did you find any good art?" he asked.

Acknowledgements: Thanks to the Bob Rauschenberg Gallery, Michelle Weinberg, Ron Bishop and the Archives of American Art.

All
photo copyrights revert to the photographer except where noted. All
material copyright protected and may not be copied or
disseminated without the expressed written consent of Fine Art
Investigations, Frank Messina, Bob Rauschenberg Gallery, the Archives of
American Art and the
Artist Rights Society.

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Who The #$&% is Michael Wilson?

"Michael Wilson" is the pen name of award-winning poet, artist, actor and journalist Frank Messina. Messina and his work have been featured in the New York Times, Beloit Poetry Journal, New York Magazine, on PBS, BBC, SNY-TV and on hundreds of stages around the world. Baseball fans refer to him as "The Mets Poet". He is a member of the National Writers Union - Journalism Division and serves on the Creative Advisory Board for the Jack Kerouac Writer-in-Residence Project, Orlando, Florida.
Representation:
Thomas C. Danziger;
Danziger, Danziger & Muro, LLP.
405 Park Avenue
Suite 502,
New York, NY 10022
212.754.7000